


Day 18: Oracle Reading/Dark Woods

by WatermelonTuesdays



Series: Sheith Monster Fuckers 2019 [18]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Attack, Anosmia Keith, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Cuddling & Snuggling, Fae Keith (Voltron), First Meetings, First Time, Grinding, Huddling For Warmth, Lizard Shiro, Lonely shiro, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Makeouts, Non-Graphic Violence, Shy Shiro (Voltron), Temperature Play, Top Keith (Voltron), Virgin Shiro (Voltron), cursed shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatermelonTuesdays/pseuds/WatermelonTuesdays
Summary: Keith is sent on a journey into the dark woods and finds a castle with one sexy lizard man who needs Keith's help to break his curse. Specifically, he needs Keith's dick. ;)
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Sheith Monster Fuckers 2019 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500824
Comments: 16
Kudos: 125
Collections: Monster Fuckers Sheith Month





	Day 18: Oracle Reading/Dark Woods

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS SO LOOOOONG!!! I'm sorry/you're welcome!

Keith shivers in the cold night air. It’s still only October, but already there’s snow on the ground. His fire is pitiful, half the logs are frozen and those that aren’t are too damp to light properly. He has a small packet of gunpowder left, enough to sprinkle on the fire and warm himself temporarily, but he’d rather keep it safe in his inner pockets. A thick black smoke rolls off the soggy logs, smouldering more than burning. It tickles at his nose, makes him want to sneeze; it likely smells horrible, but Keith will never know. His inability to smell anything is equal parts curse and blessing, and today it is a blessing because the smoke looks noxious. 

The woods are oppressive and dark in this end of the forest.

To be honest, this is the farthest Keith has ever gone, and that’s saying something. He’s spent most of his life in these woods, chopping lumber and trapping for food and furs. He’s mapped more of the strange, winding wood trails than anyone else in the surrounding villages. 

But everyone avoids this part of the woods, even Keith. Here the trees grow close together, and snow covers the ground year-round. The animals here are strange and have a nasty habit of getting up and running away long after they’ve been killed. 

He wouldn’t be here at all – not for love or money – if it weren’t for his mother. She’d been gone fighting a war for many years and now that she’s back she finds Keith’s solitary way of life unsuitable. “Unlivable.” Keith has no problem with his way of life, but he does have a problem with the guilt hanging over his mother’s head every time she talks about him being alone, with neither friend nor partner.

The wind howls in a fair mimicry of a wolf, and Keith pulls his fur cloak tighter around his body. What he wouldn’t give to have Kosmo with him. The wolf-dog is fae, like Keith’s mother, and he’s larger and warmer than this pathetic excuse of a fire. During the summers, Keith would curse the beast for its heat output, but in the dead of winter he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to encouraging Kosmo up onto the bed to save his toes from frostbite. 

But now Kosmo is back home in his bed, keeping his mother warm. All because that witch said Keith had to go alone. 

That’s the real reason Keith’s out here, shivering his way through a blizzard and hoping that second howl echoing through the night is still just the wind. The witch.

She comes to the village once every year and wrecks havoc. 

Well, she doesn’t do too much, but she doesn’t have to. All she has to do is walk into the market square and every man in sight turns to a fool desperate for her approval. Even Keith has to begrudgingly admit she’s handsome. She’s tall and well-shaped, and she carries herself with an air of royalty. She says she’s human, but there’s more fae in her blood that there is in Keith’s, he’s sure of that. 

She glides into town, stirring the men into a frenzy and setting the girls atwitter with predictions of marriage and children. She does have some real uses, of course. She makes wards for sickness and protection, helps heal the sick and injured, and blesses harvests and new homes. But in the evenings, she sets up a tiny little tent with purple and blue silks hanging over the entrance and takes out her crystal and reads peoples’ fortunes. 

That’s where the village falls into chaos. Those damn predictions. All the men rush to sit with her, hoping that when she looks at them through her crystal, she’ll fall helplessly in love with them – it’s no matter that it hasn’t happened once in the last 10 summers, they keep on trying. Though she refuses all their advances, she leaves them with too much hope, and they spend the rest of her visit on fool’s errands to impress her. All the while, the women fly about her, shooing their men away with rolling pins, and begging her for good fortunes and spells to make their husbands smarten up. 

Generally, when Allura’s in town, Keith heads out trapping. 

Not this summer. 

This summer, his mother hauled him into the tent and sat him down with a firm grip over his shoulders to keep him in place. He wasn’t exactly kicking and screaming on the way there, but his mother had definitely had to draw on some fae strength to pull his heels out of the mud. 

Now he’s here, freezing his fingers off in the snow in the deep woods where no one holding all their marbles ever ventures.

The wind howls again, only this time Keith feels certain it’s not the wind.

Keith curses Allura one last time, stamps out his pathetic fire, and slips into his tent to wrap himself up in furs and wait out the dawn.

In the morning, Keith’s joints feel frozen and he stomps around the camp doing a stupid, squatting walk to work some of the ache out of them before he cleans up. There are paw prints in the new snow behind his tent and Keith’s blood runs cold at the sight. The prints are massive, and they circle the camp several times over before heading deeper into the woods. An ominous sign.

Keith wanders for days, working his way deeper and deeper into the woods. The farther he goes, the colder and darker it becomes, until every footstep seems to bring him closer to permanent night. The sounds of the howling follow him like a belated shadow and every morning those same paw prints circle his tent. He never sees the beast or beasts that trail him, and he can’t tell what, if anything, they’re waiting for. 

It’s nerve-wracking to say the least. Keith would easily call himself a brave man, but the further he goes the less it feels like bravery and the more it feels like stupidity. How that witch expects him to meet anything other than certain doom out here in these godforsaken woods is beyond him.

Keith is minutes away from turning tail and heading back home, willing rather to brave his mother’s disappointment than continue this farce of a journey, when he sees, of all things, a light.

It’s dim at first, and far enough away that Keith thinks he’s seeing things. The mind plays tricks when you’re days away from civilization, in a woods filled with strange beasts, and under darkness that is omnipresent and crushing. But the possibility of a light is enough to keep Keith moving forward.

Over time, Keith becomes certain it is, in fact, a light (and not a hallucination). Then he sees it is several lights.

And then, wonder of wonders, the woods part and he sees that it is, in fact, a castle. It sits among the grey and white landscape like a scar over the land. Tall spires pierce into the cloudbank, black and ominous. Though there is no sun, a shadow runs the length of the clearing, a perfect mirror to the castle ahead.

Why would anyone build a castle in this part of the dark woods? Who, of all creatures, could possibly live there?

The sky is the same overcast grey, the dark clouds pressing over the world like a ceiling. It feels enclosed, like Keith is trapped in an ornament.

Still… the witch told him to go to the dark woods to meet his fate, and here he is overlooking a strange castle in the woods. Seems like a good place to start.

The only thing is that the path to the castle is very open. Keith stands inside the tree line, where the woods is dense, almost protective, around him. But nothing grows between Keith’s feet and the gates of the castle. Not a single bush or twig mars the land. There is only rock and snow.

Keith might not be a coward, but he is no fool either. He scans the area, looking for any signs of life, or any dips in the earth that might hide a prowling creature. He pulls his knife and holds it, letting the solid weight of the handle warm under his touch until it feels like it’s become a part of him. Until it’s nothing but an extension. 

Deep breath and then Keith takes his first step.

The change is immediate.

The forest goes deafeningly quiet. The air changes suddenly, pulling cold and knifelike at Keith’s clothes. He’s keenly aware of eyes watching him from the woods, and the instinct to run is too urgent to overcome.

Keith sets off at a reckless pace. He’s no farther than a few paces when he hears the crackling of leaves and twigs beneath the feet of giant beasts. Whatever patrolled Keith’s campsites is coming.

Keith runs as fast as his legs will carry him and he doesn’t look back. He can hear the heavy footfalls of multiple beasts. They pant in the cold, quiet air, making wet, hungry noises as they close in on him quickly. 

Based on the sounds, Keith would guess there’s 3 of them, but he doesn’t dare check for himself. He focuses on where his feet will land and on listening for their approach. He hears the change in the pace as one beast lunges. It reaches close enough that Keith can feel its hot breath over the back of his neck before he throws himself to the ground. He rolls to his feet just as the creature lands in front of him and he’s moving, knife first, before it has a chance to reorient. 

The beast is huge. Larger than Kosmo and twice as terrifying. 

He can’t say whether it’s a lizard or a wildcat. It’s black and grey, with red evil eyes and sharp looking tusks. It yowls as Keith slices through its shoulder. He just barely dodges claws as he swings around the back of the beast and starts running again.

The others are gaining on him now, he can see them in his peripherals trying to get ahead of him to cut him off. He pushes himself as hard as he can – he can’t let them get between him and the castle or it’s all over. 

They’re too fast. He can feel the one he cut closing in behind him once again, and he sees the others start to pull ahead. Soon he’ll be trapped between the three of them.

Keith does the only thing he can think of. He veers suddenly to the left, slicing with his knife as he goes. He digs it as deep as he can and cuts one of the beasts from the hip all the way up until his blade hits its rib cage. The beast’s blood is warm over his hands, and he keeps his grip tight on his knife so the blood doesn’t get between them. He can’t afford for it to slip away now.

The other animals rush to trap him between them and Keith uses his solid grip on the knife to help vault himself over the one he’s just maimed, putting its large body between him and the others. 

He cuts the creature again, this time sliding his knife between the cages of its ribs. It makes a hoarse sound as Keith rips its lungs open, followed by a sickening gurgle. It’s not a particularly clean kill, but Keith is a little proud of it nonetheless. He’s never had to kill anything this big while two of its pack mates circle him, so he counts it as a win. 

He and the others stare each other down as the beast between them sinks to the ground. 

Keith’s mind races to find a way out. 

He knows the beasts are preparing to strike, just as he knows he can’t discount the one at his feet – even a dying beast can snap its jaws if given the chance. He can see the castle, but it still too far to run. Maybe 30 more paces and he’ll be in the castle’s shadow, but it’s another 60, at least, to the gates. 

Keith tenses, preparing to run the moment they pounce. 

Claws scrap over Keith’s face as he dodges left and guns it for the castle. The beasts cry out horrible, loud noises of frustration as the chase resumes. 

Blood drips from Keith’s face, but he ignores it. He’ll do more than bleed if he can’t get away from these things soon.

They close in on either side again and Keith swings wildly at the closest one, trying to hack at their shoulders to slow them down. 

Then, a miracle.

Keith feels the moment he steps into the shadow of the castle. It’s like being hit with a sudden shower, icy cold and drenching. It feels like magic.

Not a second later, he hears a startled whine from the beasts pursuing him, and the pounding sound of footsteps behind him stops abruptly. 

It’s foolish to turn and look, but something tells Keith it’s safe to. Something in the way the hackles on the back of Keith’s neck have suddenly calmed, like his body knows he’s safe even as his brain is still reeling from the chase. So, he turns to see the beasts dancing on their feet at the edge of the shadows.

They look at Keith like he’s the meal that got away, their ears pressed back against their heads like scolded cats. They whine after him again, and one paces along the edge of the shadow, but they don’t cross it. Keith wonders if they even can. 

Aside from the darkness of the shadow, and the looming blackness of the castle, things look identical from this side of the shadow to the other. But the beasts won’t cross that line, and Keith doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Neither does he put away his knife. He walks backwards for a few paces, eyes locked on the strange beasts. He’s still on guard despite how secure he feels here under the protection of the castle. Soon enough he turns his back and walks calmly to the castle.

His face feels stretched and prickly with dried blood by the time he reaches the gates. He resists the urge to wipe at the wound with his dirty jacket sleeve. He feels self-conscious and inadequate under the massive, ornate, wrought iron of the castle gates and it makes him want to fidget; still, even a simpleton knows not to rub an open would with a dirt-smeared cloth.

Astoundingly, the gates are open. What looked like just a crack between the two doors from a distance is in fact a three feet gap that Keith slips through without issue. 

Inside the black walls that guard the castle, the temperature dips further. There’s no snow on the ground here, but the haunted look of the dead trees and bushes that line the dark cobbled paths remind Keith that there’s such a thing as being too cold to snow. The garden, which is what it must be, though everything in it is long dead, has the dried look of a dessert. 

The path winds through and around plots of barren soil that look to have once overflowed with greenery. Black stone benches nestle under circles of naked trees that have neither leaves nor pines. Statues, carved of the same black rock as the castle and everything else in it, reach out to the sky as if pleading for mercy. 

It’s eerie to walk through, but Keith doesn’t dare step off the path. This isn’t the land of the fae – Keith does not have the protection of his half-fae heritage. Plus, this land is clearly enchanted with dark magics and Keith knows better than to step off a marked path.

He does his best to keep alert as he moves, not focusing on any one thing but keeping track of everything in his vicinity. As he approaches the steps to the castle-proper, however, one statue catches his eye.

At first his eyes slip over it the same way they do all the others, but once he’s already started to turn away his attention snaps back, sure that he saw movement in his peripherals. There’s nothing to see when he looks back. 

A shiver runs up Keith’s spine that has nothing to do with the cold and for a moment he feels like he’s back in the woods being watched by those huge beasts. He checks over his shoulder for any sign of them creeping up on him, but the coast is clear. Keith keeps his grip on his knife firm.

The feeling persists all the way up the stairs and as Keith looks up at the massive wooden doors of the castle. It looks like it’s made for giants, and far too heavy for one man to open. There’s a knocker set into the door just above human eye level and Keith reaches for it. 

He hesitates before knocking. 

There are still other options.

He could slip in through one of the many brightly lit windows that attracted him in the first place. Likely he’d get himself caught within seconds, the prickling at the back of his neck is too strong to ignore – whoever owns this place knows he is here. He could try the door himself, his knife at the ready should the owner turn out to be something worse than the beasts that chased him. Might get him killed. Or, Keith could put his knife away and knock at the door like a civilized human and ask to gain entrance.

He knows what he would have done before. Just a few years ago, before his mother returned, Keith would have been blasting into the door, knives flying and musket at the ready. But Keith has mellowed and (in some people’s eyes) matured. 

Any fae would take a bloody knife as a sign of hostility and they’d attack first, ask questions later. That’s what Keith would do if this were his castle and it was someone else knocking at his door.

So, Keith takes three, long, deep breaths. He wipes his knife against his leg to clean off the blood, and sheaths it at his back. 

He holds his breath as he knocks three times (three for good luck). The door swings open on the third knock and Keith exhales slowly as he steps through the doors. They swing shut behind him and Keith is left alone in a large room. 

He wanders through the first few rooms and blows on his hands for warmth. Though large fires rage in every hearth he passes, and candles line the walls, there is no heat in the castle. It is as cold as outside. Possibly colder.

At first, Keith wanders alone. It takes a few minutes for the feeling of being watched to return, and after that Keith finds himself craning his neck to see around pillars and peer into darkened corners, looking for his pursuer. 

The castle seems to be entirely deserted save for the two of them. 

Oddly enough, the feeling of being watched doesn’t set Keith on edge. It’s not like back in the woods, where those monsters followed him for days, waiting for him to step out in the open. The presence that follows him through the castle isn’t threatening.

If anything, it’s pleasant. 

It takes a fair amount of mental fortitude for Keith to resist dwelling on Allura’s oracle. That Keith would find love and fulfillment in the dark woods. That’s nonsense. And Keith is fulfilled enough living on his own, he doesn’t need anyone else (other than his mother… and, well, he does miss Kosmo…). 

Once it becomes plain his pursuer won’t be seen until they want to be, Keith gives up on looking. He keeps his back to the shadows, letting them adjust to his presence. 

“What a big room,” Keith comments, walking into a ballroom large enough to house the entire market back home. “What could you possibly do in a room like this?” It’s the first room Keith’s seen so far without a fire, and the chill is strong enough for Keith’s bones to ache. He shivers and rubs at his own arms, “Must not be in here much, are you?” 

He turns and walks back into the relative warmth. 

He doesn’t turn to look when the telltale swish of fabric follows him out of the room, and the door clicks shut. 

Keith heads down a short hallway that leads to another cavernous room. This one has a grand staircase as it’s focal point and a series of other hallways leading off in various directions.

“What d’you think, should we take this upstairs?” Keith asks. There’s a hint of a joke in his voice, and he immediately regrets it. It sounds like he’s flirting, but Keith doesn’t flirt. Ask anyone. 

It doesn’t much matter, though, because the shadows don’t answer. 

Keith’s shoes echo on the stairs up to the second floor. He listens at the top of the stairs, expecting his following friend to make the same sounds, but there’s nothing. He’s halfway down the next hallway when the feeling of being watched returns, but try as he might, he can’t hear a thing.

“You’re stealthy as hell, I’ll give you that,” Keith says, almost to himself, as he starts to poke his head into different rooms. 

They’re ornately furnished. Sitting rooms and bedrooms and rooms whose functions Keith can’t begin to fathom. There’s an overwhelming amount of black. It’s everywhere Keith looks: black on black. Sometimes with a bit of dark grey mixed in. 

Even the tapestries. 

Keith gets close to one hanging across from a bed. From the door it looked like just a black hanging cloth, but up close it’s an entire scene. It looks like a battle from an old fae story, of the five mystic lions and their defeat of an evil emperor. It’s made entirely in shades of black and is completely impractical. Keith nearly goes cross-eyed trying to map it all out.

He rubs at his eyes as he steps back and makes for the door. “Man, whoever cursed you really wanted you to suffer, huh?”

“You… know about the curse?”

The voice stops Keith in his tracks. It’s deep, and raspy from disuse. It sends a small tremor of excitement run down Keith’s spine and makes him shiver. 

It sounds close, like his friend is standing just behind him. Keith doesn’t check.

“S’not hard to guess.” He gestures vaguely at the castle as a whole, “all this black is impractical, and it’s cold as a witch’s tit even with all these fires.”

Keith’s friend doesn’t say anything more. He slowly turns his head to check behind him, but there’s nothing but darkness and shadow. 

This should be creepy. It should be really, really creepy.

But it’s just not.

“Come on, let’s see what’s down here.” Keith waves his friend on with him and heads off down another hallway.

They explore for hours and only make it through a few floors. They don’t go near the towers or down low to any potential dungeons – Keith is comfortable with his friend but doesn’t think it wise to press his luck by stepping into a ready cage.

It’s easy to tell which rooms his friend uses. Those rooms have clutter, messy blankets and clothes on the floor, dirty plates on the tables, books laid open to mark their place. There’s less dust in those rooms, and a feeling of hominess. 

Keith takes his time in these rooms, looking over the books and inspecting the fruits that sit half-frozen in bowls.

In one such room, Keith finds a large, plush chair pushed so close to the fireplace it’s practically a fire hazard. Beside it is a pile of books, and a side table with an open bottle of red wine. A heavy blanket is slung over one arm. 

“This your room?” Keith asks, running his fingers along the back of the chair. 

The fire is stoked high and does a decent job of heating the area. It’s not warm, by any means, but it takes off the worst of the chill. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” 

There’s a shifting sound that Keith takes as approval. He sits and then sinks into the chair – his first chair in over and week, and by far the most richly plush chair he’s ever sat on in his life. He wiggles his butt into the cushion. A half-second later he realizes what he’s just done and straightens his back, leaning over to the fire and holding out his hands like he didn’t do anything weird.

“Jesus, it’s cold here,” Keith says, keeping up the small talk to his silent friend. He grabs the blanket from the arm of the chair and wraps it around himself. “You really live here all by yourself, huh? Can’t be easy.”

Keith knows hardship. He knows living on your own. This is beyond anything he’s ever encountered before. 

There was no life whatsoever around this castle except for what’s in the woods. Meaning no hunting, no harvesting, no woodcutting. Keith has no idea where his friend got all the firewood that burns in nearly every room of this huge place, but it can’t be easy. Even those half-frozen fruits from before must be hard-won. 

That’s not even to say anything about the solitude. It must be as biting as the chill. No wonder Keith’s friend is so willing to follow him around, listening to every mundane thought that crosses Keith’s mind. 

Keith loves his alone time and needs a good amount of solitude in his life, it’s true. But he’s never lived in complete and utter isolation. He’s always been within a day’s walk of the villages. They might not always have the best conversationalists, but there were people there if he got lonely or needed help. There can’t be a person or creature worth talking to here for hundreds of miles. 

So, Keith imagines he can understand some of what his friend is going through. The elation of having someone here to break the silence, coupled with the fear of actually speaking to someone when you haven’t said a word in how long?

Keith rubs absently at the cut on his face as he wonders just how long his hidden friend has lived like this. 

He looks at his hand in surprise when he feels the dried blood stick to his fingers. To be honest, he had entirely forgotten the cut. He was too distracted by the castle to explore and the stalker to befriend. 

“Da…” the rasping voice comes from the shadows in the corner of the room. It’s such a light sound that Keith almost doesn’t hear it over the sound of the fire. There’s a smacking sound, like when you’re nervous and your mouth gets dry, and then his friend tries again. “Duh-does it hurt?” It’s trough from disuse, but there’s concern in the voice, clear as anything.

Keith shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”

His friend makes a scoffing noise.

“I have!” Keith declares. “Nearly ripped my shoulder off a few years ago, I’ve still got the scar.” Keith touches his shoulder like touching it will prove there’s a scar under his heavy clothes. “Got burns too.”

Keith doesn’t like to talk about the burns. Doesn’t like to think about them. 

His friend seems to sense that, because he asks, “Where are you from?”

“Arus village.” Keith can tell by the silence that his friend has no idea where that is. “It’s a few days south from here. Small village, there’s maybe 500 people.”

“5 _hundred_ ” his friend says meaningfully. 

Keith quirks a look at the shadows. “When’s the last time you spoke to someone?”

There’s a shifting in the darkness that suggests a shrug. “Time is meaningless here. It’s cold and it’s dark. Sometimes it’s colder and darker and I usually take that as night.”

“Still, you must have some idea. Weeks? Months?”

“Years,” his friend says matter-of-factly. “Possibly decades. I don’t really know.”

“Wow.” Keith lets that sink in for a moment. On the one hand, decades without anyone to piss him off is intriguing. On the other hand, decades with only yourself for company in this frozen wasteland and Keith would absolutely lose it. “How do you keep sane?”

Keith grimaces the second the words are out of his mouth. That’s a bit of a dick question. It’s presumptuous too: maybe this guy’s not sane. 

“Books mostly. I like the ones that talk about summer and heat, it makes me feel warm.”

Keith nods. He hasn’t read many books, there aren’t many books in the village – not compared to the shelves and libraries he saw while wandering through the castle. He has read some, though. There’s one worn paperback that gets passed around the women of the village that… well, it wasn’t exactly Keith’s cup of tea, but when the baron started ripping his clothes off Keith had definitely felt his temperature rise. 

“When I can, I stargaze, too.”

That makes Keith pull a face. “Stargaze?” Those clouds were hanging, heavy and permanent, over the entire horizon when Keith ran to the castle. And it didn’t look like a drop of sun had reached the earth in years.

“Once a year the clouds part. It renews the curse, but I can usually get a few hours of stargazing in before they close in again.”

It’s a sad existence, for sure. Keith doesn’t envy him for it. If anything, it makes him appreciate the freedom he’s enjoyed his entire life.

Still, it’s sad enough that Keith feels a little uncomfortable asking more. He tries to change the subject. “Do you have a name?”

There’s a glint of teeth from the shadows – a smile. “I do. Shiro. What about you?”

Keith hesitates. 

If he were in the other world, or in a fae-run enchanted forest, Keith wouldn’t dream of giving anyone his true name. You give someone too much power when you give your true name. In some parts, even just a first name is enough for someone to take advantage of you. This isn’t a fae world – clearly – it’s something else. Those beasts were something else, his shy friend is something else, this curse is something else. And Keith wishes desperately he knew the rules here. 

The shadows seem to shrink back in on themselves as Keith thinks it over.

The thing is… Keith trusts this shy, quiet, lonely man hiding in the shadows while Keith just casually helps himself to the stranger’s home. 

“Keith,” he says at last. He chooses to trust Shiro, and just like that there’s a breath of relief between them that could almost warm the room. 

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice is beginning to lose some of its rasping quality as he uses it. The way he says Keith’s name is nice. “I… uh… do you need anything? For that cut?”

“I wouldn’t say no to some warm water.”

Shiro’s laugh is still a bit rusty. “There’s not much warm anything here, but I’ll see what I can do.”

The shadows shift again, then hesitate. Shiro stays in place for several seconds. Then, instead of moving for the door, he steps further into the room – into the light.

The first thing Keith makes out is the hulking, formless shape of Shiro’s cloaks. They’re black as everything else here and look thick and warm. The hood is up, keeping Shiro’s face in shadow.

Shiro takes another step, then slowly parts the cloak to reach up for his hood. His hands are black, with a shine to them like polished crocodile skin, and there’s a hint of claw at the tips of his fingers. He pulls his hood back as he steps ever closer.

It’s little wonder he hid to well in the shadows. He is black head to toe, same as everything else in this castle, except for a small patch of white hair as his forehead. His eyes are soft and fearful as he approaches, like he’s waiting for Keith to either run scared or attack. 

Keith keeps his face carefully neutral as he takes in Shiro’s appearance. 

Definitely not fae; but Keith already knew that. His stature and features are all humanoid, and if it weren’t for his dark, lizard-like skin Keith might take him for human. 

Keith looks Shiro over, then meets Shiro’s eyes and holds them. 

Emotions flash across his friend’s face. Keith can’t make out all of them, but he definitely sees confusion, surprise, and something sad and self-defeating. It’s like Keith’s easy acceptance of his appearance freaks him out. Like he expects to be terrifying and can’t understand that he isn’t. 

“Ummm, water?” Keith suggests when they’ve both been staring at each other long enough for it to feel awkward.

“Right!” Shiro’s face lights up at the prospect of a task. He turns on his heels and sweeps out of the room with a graceful swish of his cloak. 

He returns later with a pot of water and a small stack of black cloths. 

He pauses again when he comes close to Keith and looks between the pot in his hand and the fire a few times, like he has no idea how he will get it to the fire to warm the water. There’s plenty of room beside the chair where Keith sits, but he suspects Shiro is fearful to getting too close. Keith pulls his feet out of the way and gestures for Shiro to take the space. 

Shiro moves into place and kneels before the fire, hanging the pot of water on the swinging arm in the hearth and pushing it to sit in the flames. 

He’s close enough now that Keith can get a good look at him in the firelight. 

In the bright glow of the fire, Keith realizes that Shiro’s skin is not black like everything else, but a deep, deep shade of purple. His skin is patterned like a crocodile’s, with little squares of purple that get a little lighter on the underside of his arm. There’s no hair that Keith can see, except for what’s on his head. 

His fingers end in small little claws. Compared to Kosmo’s great nasty talons, these look almost cute.

Keith has the sudden urge to take Shiro’s hand, feel that skin against his own, and inspect the sharpness of those claws. He doesn’t, but only because Shiro nearly launches himself back into the shadowed corner when Keith shifts in his seat. 

“It’s ok, I won’t hurt you,” Keith says, holding his hands up to show that he’s safe.

“You won’t hurt me,” Shiro repeats in disbelief.

Keith smiles, “Yeah. And you won’t hurt me, either. I’m tougher than I look.”

Shiro gives Keith a sidelong look and his lips curl into a smile. He’s very handsome. The cloak might bulk out his size, but Keith can tell there’s more than a little muscle under all that plush fabric. His eyes are big and expressive, and he has a thin scar of pink skin across his nose. His shock of white hair falls boyishly in his face and adds to the twinkle in his eyes when he says, “Yes, I saw you fight. I was impressed.”

“Yeah?”

Shiro nods and kneels back down before the fire, holding his hands out to warm them by the flames. “Those are nasty beasts and they’re not easy to kill. And that jump over the one you killed?”

“You liked that?” There’s not an insignificant amount of pride in Keith’s voice. He likes that Shiro is impressed with his fighting skills. 

“Heh, I did.” 

Shiro turns to look up at Keith. His eyes are clear, and they appear to dance in the firelight. For a long time, they just look at each other. There’s something like amazement – maybe wonder – in Shiro’s eyes as he looks at Keith, and Keith can only imagine what his eyes are doing. He likes that he impressed Shiro. Really likes it.

The moment crackles and snaps around them as Shiro turns back to the fire with a self-conscious little cough. 

“So, uh… what brings you here? I’ve never seen anyone try and gest past those monsters before.”

“Yeah, what were those things?” Keith asks, purposely ignoring Shiro’s question. He’s acutely aware of the possibility that Shiro is exactly who Keith’s been sent to find, but now’s not really the time for that.

“Haggar’s beasts. She made them to stalk the castle and keep me here. It’s overkill if you ask me, it’s not like I needed any other reason to stay away from people.” Shiro’s voice is sour and he reaches for the poker to stir up the fire like he needs to stab at something. 

He says it like the other reasons should be obvious, but Keith is drawing a complete blank. There’s nothing he can see about Shiro that’s so unacceptable he has to stay away from people. Maybe his purple skin would be a problem in one of the big cities, but not in any of the villages surrounding the dark forest or bordering fae territory. He’d hardly be noticed in Keith’s village (well, no… he _would_ be noticed, but mainly for that smile). 

“What do you mean?”

Now it’s Shiro’s turn to look confused. “You don’t…?” He’s interrupted by the water boiling hard enough that the pot lid dances and spits. 

Shiro pulls the pot to the edge of the fire, where he can safely reach in and dip a cloth in the still-boiling water. He rings it out quickly and brings it to Keith’s face.

They have a moment of awkwardness as Shiro reaches for Keith’s chin at the same time Keith tries to move himself closer and they bump against each other.

“Sorry,” Shiro mumbles, and his fingers fold around the underside of Keith’s chin, holding him steady.

The cloth is already cold by the time it touches Keith’s cheek. What a frustrating way to live! Shiro wets it some more and this time it’s at least lukewarm against his skin. Shiro cleans him carefully, returning to the water often to try and keep Keith’s cheek warm as possible. His touch is gentle and it’s soothing despite the pain that flickers across Keith’s skin from the cut. 

Perhaps the weirdest part of all this is that, of all things, Keith’s chin is starting to feel warm. Like, warmer than his cheek, which is being rubbed down with still-boiling water. It’s only where Shiro’s fingers touch him, and it’s really hard not to read into that. 

Shiro himself is all business. His gaze is focused on Keith’s cheek and he seems to care about nothing else but cleaning Keith’s wound properly. His eyes are narrowed just slightly in concentration, his mouth a little bit open so that his breath stirs at Keith’s neck. The white of his hair almost sparkles in the firelight and Keith has to fight the urge to run his fingers through it. It looks impossibly soft.

“There, all clean,” Shiro pronounces. His eyes flicker up to Keith’s and go wide as he realizes their proximity. 

Keith’s breath catches in his throat. “Th-anks,” he mutters. 

His head shifts, moving like a magnet into Shiro’s space. There’s a twitch in Shiro’s touch on his chin, and Shiro shifts a little closer. 

But then they blink, and Shiro is pulling away, and Keith’s chin feels colder than ever without Shiro’s touch. 

Keith takes a deep breath to calm from that rush of anticipation that flooded his veins. He looks around and notices for the first time that the room is perceptibly darker. It must be getting on to nighttime, but Keith hadn’t even noticed. He touches at his cheek and feels the lines of the cut. It’s deep enough to scar, but clean cut enough that it should heal well; Keith is lucky those beasts’ claws are razor sharp or else his face might be mangled. 

Beside him, Shiro cleans up the cloths and takes the pot of dirty water away. When he returns, he’s got another blanket it his hands and he stands near Keith’s chair looking sheepish. “Did you… I thought maybe you’d… want to sleep?”

It only takes a second of contemplation for Keith to realize how nice it would feel to be in a proper bed again. Plus, if the beds here are anything like the chairs, he’ll be in for the most comfortable sleep of his life (though, very likely also the coldest). 

“Is there somewhere I can sleep without freezing to death?” He arches a brow in Shiro’s direction, and it makes Shiro laugh.

“I think I can find something suitable.” 

Keith slaps his hands together and jumps to his feet. “Perfect! Lead the way.” 

He grabs the half-empty bottle of wine from the side table as an afterthought and follows Shiro out the door and back into the cold hallways. They wander together in silence until they land back in that big ballroom without a fire. 

It seems a dubious bedroom, but Keith keeps his thoughts to himself, and follows Shiro into the dark room. 

The room is a giant rectangle, with multiple doors along one length, and massive ornamental windows that reach up to a cathedral ceiling. It has the dusty smell of disuse, and an unnerving emptiness about it. Their footsteps echo through the room. 

Shiro leads Keith down the length of the room. At its end is a huge fireplace. Huge like taller than Keith and easily big enough to fit an entire bed. For a moment, Keith thinks that’s what Shiro’s going to do, put him to sleep in an actual fireplace. Obviously he doesn’t. There’s wood already stocked in the hearth and Shiro lights it quickly.

“It’ll take a little while to warm up,” he says, checking the draft and prodding at some of the wood to help it catch. “Here.”

The fireplace is set out from the wall, leaving narrow enclaves on either side and on the left side, fitted snuggly between the massive windows and huge fireplace, is a little cot. 

“Is this where you sleep?” Keith asks. 

The cot is much smaller than any of the other beds he saw earlier, but it’s piled with blankets in a way that suggests it gets at least semi-frequent use.

“Sometimes, when it’s cold enough. Once it gets going, the wall here warms up, it should keep you from freezing to death.”

“And until then?”

“Oh… there are blankets…”

Keith takes a swig from the wine bottle as Shiro stammers out a reply. 

“Stay with me for a bit,” Keith interrupts. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and goes for it. “Body warmth.” He looks down at the wine bottle, “Oh, I stole your wine. Hope that’s ok…” 

He feels a little drunk, but he knows it’s because of Shiro. Because he just asked Shiro to jump into bed with him. For body warmth.

“Oh, uh… that’s fine… I…” Shiro flounders.

“We can talk more,” Keith offers. He already knows that’s Shiro’s weak spot. Shiro’s starved for conversation and for company. 

So, Keith sits on the little cot and scoots back into the dark of the enclave. Shiro follows, passing Keith the blanket and sitting close enough to wrap more blankets around both their shoulders. 

It’s freezing cold while the fire builds up, but there’s a line of warmth where Keith’s knee touches Shiro’s and where his elbow grazes Shiro’s arm. The blankets do an alright job of trapping their heat together.

Keith starts by telling Shiro about the village. Shiro is fascinated by Keith’s descriptions of everyone, and of Keith’s daily life. 

“You really have a pet wolf?” Shiro asks, saying it like that’s the dream. Keith has to agree; it is the dream.

“I do. He’s huge. Takes up the entire bed. He’d be useful here because he’s a walking furnace, but this here isn’t bad.” Keith punctuates it with a shoulder nudge that makes Shiro laugh nervously. Flirting with Shiro is gratifying, he’s been alone so long it’s made him too open, and too used to wearing everything on his sleeve, to affect nonchalance. 

They pass the wine back and forth until it’s gone. It’s just enough to make them easy and comfortable. Keith can feel the warmth gathering in his cheeks, and he relaxes into the blankets. He lets his shoulder press against Shiro and can’t help the little thrill he gets when Shiro doesn’t pull away. 

Eventually the wall starts to warm, just like Shiro said it would, but by that time they’re too involved in their conversation to pay it much attention. At one point they both reach out and press their hands to the wall to feel it’s warmth, their faces still turned to each other while Shiro talks about his life before the curse.

“So, you didn’t always live here?” Keith asks after Shiro finishes a story about getting trouble for racing horses through the city square of his hometown.

“No. I didn’t always look like a lizard either. This is all Haggar.”

Keith waits for Shiro to continue or change the topic.

“I commanded a small battalion of strong fighters. We chased the witch, Haggar, out of town and through the wilds, here. She set those beasts of her on us in the middle of the night. Some ran, some died, but I was caught and cursed.”

Keith leans his head against Shiro’s arm and rubs his cheek against the cloak. 

“Some friggin’ curse. Turning you into a lizard man and trapping you in this freezing castle. I’m sure you could get past those monsters, if you wanted to. You’re strong.” He turns to look up at Shiro’s face, “I could help.”

Shiro is looking down at Keith in wonder. There’s something in his eyes that makes Keith’s heart pound, and he suddenly feels very _seen_. 

“You really don’t smell it?” Shiro asks.

What?

It throws Keith off enough that he pulls away. 

“What?”

“You don’t smell me?”

“I don’t smell anything,” Keith says honestly. 

They stare at each other in complete confusion for a long, long moment. 

“I’ve never smelled anything,” Keith clarifies, “Ever.”

Shiro looks just as confused.

“You know how some people are just born blind? Or deaf? It’s like that, only it’s my nose. I can’t smell. I’ve never been able to smell.” 

“So… you really don’t smell me?” Shiro seems to be hung up on that point.

Keith frowns, “No. Why, do you smell?”

“ _Horrible!_ ” Shiro is so emphatic it startles Keith a little. “It’s disgusting! I can hardly stand it. It’s the reason I’ve never even tried to leave. I can’t subject someone else to it.”

It’s a terrible idea. Keith knows it is as he’s doing it, but he can’t help himself. He turns his head so that his nose is practically fitted into Shiro’s arm pit, and he takes a deep breath in, sniffing _loudly_. “You smell fine to me.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence where Keith doesn’t dare to look up at Shiro’s face. Then Shiro’s falling back onto the cot, body wracked with silent laughter. It turns quickly into that loud, boisterous laughter where you have to gasp for breath like you’re drowning. It’s contagious, and Keith leans over Shiro, laughing at his own joke. 

It takes them several minutes to calm down, and when they finally do, they wipe the tears from their eyes and look fondly at each other. 

Shiro is almost invisible, lost in the black blankets on the cot. Still, his eyes reflect the faint light from the fire, and Keith knows exactly where to look.

“That must come with some perks; the not smelling thing,” Shiro says after a while.

“Ehhh,” Keith makes a face, then drops to the bed like a hammer. He pulls at the blankets until he and Shiro are both covered and sharing that comfortable heat again. He can feel the warmth of the fire against his back, and the warmth of Shiro against his chest. He moves his feet forward until they touch Shiro’s and they play for a few seconds before they settle. “It has it’s good points and bad points. Sure, I can’t smell bad things but…” Keith pauses for a long time. He’s not sure he wants to say it. It’s not something he talks about. Not ever. But still, Shiro’s eyes are soft and wide in the darkness, and Keith is feeling warm and trusting. “… When I was young, our house caught fire. I was sleeping and I couldn’t smell the smoke.”

“Oh…” Shiro whispers, his voice subdued. 

Keith rubs at his face and shakes his leg – it always itches whenever he thinks of the fire.

“I woke up when it caught my bed.” Keith can hear himself talking about it distantly, like it happened to someone else. “But I was trapped. My dad got me out but…” He stops there, and he can tell by the way Shiro’s holding his breath that he doesn’t have to say any more. “… he didn’t make it.”

“Keith…” Shiro reaches out but doesn’t touch. His hand just hovers awkwardly over Keith’s shoulder. It makes Keith laugh weakly.

He shifts under the covers, bending so that the top of his head presses against Shiro’s chest. It’s a weird position, but it works. The point of contact feels warm and comforting. 

It feels even better when Shiro’s hands fall around Keith’s head and he runs clipped, blunt claws through Keith’s long hair. 

“Sorry,” Keith starts, but Shiro shushes him.

“Don’t be sorry. You must miss him.”

“Yeah…”

They talk about Keith’s dad for a while, and Keith tells some of the good stories that make them laugh, and that make him miss his dad in a good way. The kind of things that make him happy to have had a dad like that. The kind that make him thankful for what time they had together.

Shiro talks some more about his own family, and the troubles he got into at the academy. 

They grow more comfortable the more they chat, and they slowly shift together, keeping warm with each other’s body heat. Shiro is a furnace just like Kosmo.

Keith tells him as much, and it makes Shiro laugh.

“No, I’m cold blooded. That’s all you.”

Keith pulls a face. That doesn’t make any sense. Shiro is definitely warm. He’s warmer than the wall.

But Shiro shakes his head. “You’re the warm one,” he insists. “Or maybe it’s the fire.”

Together, they turn to check the fire. It’s starting to grow low. 

They crawl out of bed and throw more wood into the depth of the massive hearth, building the fire back up. The chill creeps back into Keith’s bones as they do so, and when they’ve finally built it up enough, he’s the first back into their blanket cocoon.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he urges Shiro into the blankets, making grabby hands as Shiro takes his time navigating the small cot. Once Shiro’s down, Keith pulls the blankets over both their heads and presses his face into Shiro’s chest to warm his nose. “If it’s not you, then explain how you’re warming me up.”

Shiro is too busy blowing into his hands to answer right away. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to with the curse? Because we’re being physical?”

“What do you mean?” 

It doesn’t take long for them to run out of air under their pile of blankets, so Keith pulls them back down, exposing their faces to the chill. Keith takes Shiro’s hands in his own; they’re just as cold as Keith’s, but somehow holding them warms them both up. 

“Well… breaking the curse…” Shiro grows conspicuously silent and turns away from Keith’s gaze. “…You know…”

“How do you break the curse?”

Shiro shifts uncomfortably.

“Shiro?” Keith lifts up onto his hands and leans over Shiro like he can intimidate the truth out of a cursed lizard man. “How do you break the curse?”

“The curse… Haggar… she made me…” Shiro stumbles over his words. He takes a steadying breath “She made me hideous, and made me smell like a sewer, and trapped me here alone so that no one would ever find me or want me. And she made it so the curse will only break…” 

Keith waits Shiro out, still staring him down.

“… when I lose my virginity.”

It takes Keith a little while for that to settle properly in his brain. “Shiro… what?”

Shiro groans and pulls at the blankets to hide his face.

“Shiro,” Keith says again, because that seems to be the only thought making it through to his mouth at the moment. He pulls at the blankets, but Shiro holds them tight in his claws. “Shiro…” Keith gives the blankets a good yank and pulls them away. 

Shiro is all eyes under Keith. 

“You dummy,” Keith says fondly. “You’re not hideous. And you smell great to me. We can definitely break this curse… if you want.” It’s only when Keith gets to the end of his proposition that he realizes Shiro might not want him. Hell, he _might_ not even be gay (it’s a small ‘might’ at this point, but still…). 

“We can?” Shiro’s voice sounds small and unsure. “I don’t mean to be an imposition!” he says quickly.

“Imposition?” Keith rolls over Shiro. He slots a knee between Shiro’s thighs and cages Shiro’s head between his hands, looking down at Shiro’s dumb, beautiful, wide, innocent eyes. The small gasp Shiro makes trickles down Keith’s spine. “You’re not an imposition, Shiro. In fact,” Keith lowers his hips over Shiro’s thigh, waking up his latent desires and sparking heat through them both, “it’d be my pleasure.”

“Really?” Shiro breathes the question like he dare not believe it.

Keith lowers himself down over Shiro’s chest, feeling the warmth of their bodies settle along his torso. He touches the tip of his nose against Shiro’s and nuzzles it softly back and forth. “Really. Shiro, you’re gorgeous, and you’re sweet. I’d have laid you down hours ago if I had known.”

Keith lowers slowly into a kiss and Shiro squeaks into it. His lips move stiffly at first, but he quickly learns to mimic Keith’s movements. The heat between them sparks warmer as they kiss, and the sudden spike in warmth after a week in the cold is almost dizzying. Keith can only imagine how it makes Shiro feel.

They pull away with a wet smack and Shiro gasps for air. 

Keith smiles and runs his nose along Shiro’s cheeks. “Breathe through your nose, love.” He can feel the surge of heat into Shiro’s cheeks at the endearment. 

He leans in for another kiss and this time Keith pries Shiro’s lips apart with his own and touches his tongue to Shiro’s. The response in immediate. Heat surges down Keith’s spine and Shiro groans, helpless, as he meets Keith touch for touch. His arms wrap around Keith in a sudden hunger, holding Keith tight. His tongue searches into Keith’s mouth and he starts to roll them onto their sides in his enthusiasm. 

Keith allows it for a moment, revelling in the strength of Shiro’s arms and the growing skill of his kisses, but he knows he has to think while he still can. He pushes lightly at Shiro’s chest and pulls away from Shiro’s lips.

“Shiro… Shiro…” he whispers. He has to dodge Shiro’s next kiss, and Shiro lands a wet one across Keith’s cheek instead. “Hey. Shiro.” Keith holds Shiro’s face in both hands and presses their foreheads together. “Just a moment, love. Just breathe for a second.”

It takes Shiro a few seconds to calm down, and once he does, he tries to pull away from embarrassment. Keith scrambles to catch Shiro by the shoulders and bring him back down to the bed.

“Shiro,” he says again, “just listen to me for a second.”

He kisses Shiro on the cheek, and that seems to calm him. 

“Good boy,” Keith murmurs, stroking along Shiro’s jaw. “I’m going to take care of you Shiro, but before we get too carried away, we need some oil, ok?”

“Oil?” Shiro asks.

“Oil,” Keith repeats, significantly.

It takes a moment for it to sink in, but once it does, Shiro is rushing from the bed.

“I’ll be right back.” He takes about two steps, then stops and bounces back to Keith’s side, giving Keith a wet kiss on the cheek, then rushing off. 

It’s cold without Shiro. Keith pulls all the blankets up and curls against the wall, shivering as he waits. He can’t imagine how tough it’s been for Shiro all these years. Coldblooded, he’d said. It’s a miracle he hasn’t just slept the entire time, what with how cold it is. Likely, it’s a biproduct of the curse as well, making Shiro stay awake to suffer the cold rather than to sleep it away like a regular sleeping beauty. 

Shiro returns, bounding like a puppy, his uneven footsteps beating a happy rhythm up to the cot. 

“Got it,” Shiro sounds proud and excited, and a little breathless.

“What took you so long?” Keith reaches out a hand to beckon Shiro back under the covers, but Shiro misunderstands and places the bottle of oil in his hand. It’s cold – of course it’s cold – and heavy. 

Since it’s been handed to him, Keith pulls the stopper and pours a test onto his finger. It’s cold all right, but not quite frozen, and it warms quickly on his skin.

“Kitchen, or medicinal?” Keith asks. He immediately regrets it. What kind of a question is that? 

“M-medicinal,” Shiro answers, “…. You can use kitchen oil?” Shiro sits at the edge of the bed, like now is the time to discuss the many varieties of lube rather than have a practical demonstration.

“You can use anything if it’s slick enough,” Keith says. It’s another stupid thing to say. It feels briefly like this situation is crumbling out from under Keith. He tries to make it sound like a come-on but it falls flat in the darkness, and Shiro can’t see his wink like this.

In fact, Shiro can’t see him at all, because he’s still sitting at the edge of the bed, faced away. His broad shoulders cut a handsome silhouette in the glow of the fire, but Keith isn’t really wanting to just look right now. But maybe that’s what Shiro needs? Maybe Keith is coming on too strong?

Shiro’s looking down at his hands like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and the silence between them seems to suddenly expand and collapse until the crackle of the fire is deafening. 

“It’s perfect,” Keith says.

Shiro bounces on the end of the bed, turning to Keith. “It is?”

“It is, but…” Keith can see how the word deflates Shiro, “we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

“I’m ready.” As if to prove it, Shiro flips onto his knees and crawls up the cot to lean over Keith. “I’m so ready,” he says confidently. “If… if you are, that is…” There goes his confidence in an instant, and damned if Keith doesn’t find it endearing. 

Keith reaches up and touches Shiro’s cheeks. The same warmth from before is there, lingering in his skin, waiting for Keith’s touch. 

Something primal lights up in Keith’s brain as Shiro looks down at him. There’s something about lying beneath one’s lover, and especially one as solidly built as Shiro, that makes Keith’s hindbrain want to purr. 

“I’m ready for you. Let me take care of you.” 

Keith pulls Shiro down for a kiss; this time he is unprepared for the fever that comes with the press of their lips. Shiro sinks atop Keith, pressing him down into the feather mattress. His arms wind under Keith’s head and along Keith’s side, holding them close together. Their mouths and tongues meet and clash and play with each other until they’re each swallowing the soft, needy noises the other makes. 

Shiro takes a play out of Keith’s book and eases his leg down between Keith’s legs. Their temperatures skyrocket at the touch, and they have to pull apart for a moment to gasp at the sudden heat before they’re crashing back together again. Each moment is hungrier than the last, and Keith has the fleeting thought that they’ll devour each other before the night is done. 

Shiro shifts his hips over Keith, who rises to meet him, and then Shiro’s fist grips into Keith’s hair. His hips move again, with purpose this time, and then he’s gone. He’s learned a new trick and he takes to it with happy enthusiasm. 

Shiro’s kisses become sloppy as he grinds himself down on Keith, getting faster and more desperate every second. Soon enough he’s panting against Keith’s lips and whining at the back of his throat. 

Though this is Keith’s first time with Shiro, he is familiar enough with the way of the world to recognize the sound. For a moment, he entertains the idea of encouraging it. He could put a hand on Shiro’s trim, muscular waist, whisper in his ear how good he’s being, and let Shiro work himself to completion on his leg like an overeager puppy. It’d spoil his clothes, sure, but that would just give him something to think about later, come laundry time. 

But Keith can’t. He owes it to Shiro to break this curse, and there’s no guarantee Shiro won’t be too oversensitive later to go through with it.

So instead, Keith puts one hand to Shiro’s face and the other to his chest, pushing with one and holding with the other.

“Hey,” he whispers, “hey, hey, hey… Shiro, hold on.” 

It takes a moment for Shiro’s eyes to focus, but once he does his eyes land on Keith’s and he goes soft and joyful.

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, love,” Keith says, his thumb tracing the line of Shiro’s cheekbone. “I need you to last for me, ok?”

“Ok.” 

All it takes is a gentle push and Shiro is rolling to the side and onto his back. 

“Just breathe and calm down, ok? I’ve got you.” 

Shiro does just that. He takes slow, deep breaths and relaxing back into the bed while Keith reorganizes their blankets once again. He covers Shiro from toe to chin, then squirms under the blankets.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asks. He stays still under the blankets, but Keith can hear his heartbeat tick just a little faster. 

Keith doesn’t answer Shiro’s question, he lets his fingers do the talking instead. First thing he does is unclasp Shiro’s cloak. How that man still has his cloak on is beyond Keith, but there it is, so Keith unhooks it. Then Keith crawls over Shiro’s body and bends over him. 

It’s pitch black under the blankets so Keith uses his long, clever fingers to seek out the buttons of Shiro’s shirt and undo them one by one. As more and more smooth, reptilian skin is exposed, Keith leans down and begins to tease over Shiro’s chest. 

He starts with chaste kisses, and the brush of his lips as he whispers sweet nothings over Shiro’s skin. As his fingers move lower, he starts to add in tongue, then teeth. The more he gives to Shiro, the warmer it gets between them until there’s heat like fire trailing after Keith’s lips as he skims over Shiro’s abdomen. 

Somewhere around his navel, Shiro’s hands dive into Keith’s hair and comb through his locks, holding his mouth over a sensitive spot just at the top of Shiro’s breeches. 

“Here?” Keith asks, and nips lightly with his teeth. Shiro’s grip tightens and his body tenses in response to the inciting bite. 

Keith’s hands finish the last of the buttons and move to palm over Shiro’s thighs. Shiro’s entire body rolls up to meet the touch, and for a moment, Keith is cheek to cheek with Shiro’s bulging breeches. 

The air under the blankets is hot and stuffy. Keith is more than lightheaded, but he’s been too absorbed in his task to bother with it. But as Shiro’s hips rise once more, begging Keith to stuff his mouth and choke himself on what promises to be a gargantuan snack, Keith finds the willpower to deny his base instincts. 

He crawls back up Shiro’s body and emerges from the blankets, gasping for breath. Shiro is there waiting for him, and Keith hardly has a moment to fill his lungs before Shiro’s mouth is there, stealing the air back out. 

“Keith,” Shiro moans into their kiss. Strong hands grab at Keith’s sides and manhandle him over Shiro’s body until they’re snug together again and Shiro can rock himself against Keith’s leg. 

Such a desperate little thing. 

Keith reaches down between them and parts the ties of Shiro’s breeches to take him fully in hand. He’s glad to have done this outside of the blankets because the reaction that plays over Shiro’s face is magnificent. His eyes roll back and he makes a wanton look of pure bliss, his head digging back into the bed as his hips surge into Keith’s grasp. 

Keith strokes him, tight and slow, a few more times, soaking in Shiro’s reactions and memorizing it. The richness of Shiro’s moans are going to be the backdrop of Keith’s every solo orgasm for the rest of his life. 

“Can you kick off your pants?” Keith asks into Shiro’s ear, nipping at the cartilage while he’s there. Shiro doesn’t respond, he just makes another long, lascivious moan and thrusts into Keith’s fist again. 

So, Keith lets go and replaces his fist with a gentle touch with the tips of his fingers, grazing up Shiro’s length and back down. Shiro makes a choking noise and looks almost accusingly at Keith.

Keith just chuckles and kisses Shiro’s cheek. “Kick off your pants, love.” 

Shiro is only too happy to obey.

The blankets go a bit sideways from his excitement, but they’re making enough body heat now that it doesn’t matter so much if Keith’s shoulders are a little bit exposed. He’s still fully dressed in sweater, shirt, and breeches anyway.

Once they’re settled again, Keith leans over Shiro once more and distracts him with kisses while his hand searches blindly through the covers for the oil. 

It’s still cold to the touch, and that simply won’t do. Luckily, Keith is quick on his feet.

He takes the bottle and nestles it under the curve of Shiro’s jaw. Shiro gasps at the coolness of the glass. The sound turns to something more like interest as Keith rubs the bottom of the bottle back and forth at the hinge of his jaw. Keith draws it down the line of Shiro’s neck and lets it sit over his pulse just long enough for Shiro to feel it properly. 

Keith slips it under the blankets and trails it down Shiro’s body in a slow, circuitous path. Shiro’s whole body moves with the bottle, trying to anticipate its route. His eyes stay locked on Keith, even as they threaten to roll back when Keith circles the bottle over that sweet spot by Shiro’s navel. He makes the sweetest noises when Keith draws it over one nipple, then the other; and the noises get even better when Keith ducks back under the blankets to alternate his hot mouth with the cold bottle. 

Slowly, Keith makes his way down to tease the bottle along the inseam of Shiro’s thighs. He follows the line of Shiro’s legs all the way in until the cool glass bottle is nestled between Shiro’s legs and under his balls.

“Gaahh,” Shiro moans, his legs kicking uselessly at the bed, then squeeze together, as Keith holds the bottle there. “Keith!”

“Is it good or bad?” Keith asks, checking Shiro’s face for signs of true discomfort. 

“ _Good!_ ” Shiro moans. “I didn’t think cold _could_ feel good.”

Keith smiles around Shiro’s pec and drops a little kiss there. “Stick with me, baby. I can show you lots of things that feel good.”

Even in the half-light, the arch of Shiro’s eyebrow as he says “yeah?” is devastating.

“Yeah.”

Keith backs up his claim by shifting the bottle between Shiro’s legs. He holds it against Shiro’s taint, then angles it down to tease at the edge of his asshole. 

Shiro holds onto Keith’s shoulder like he’s a drowning man and tilts his head back again as Keith just teases and circles the bottle down there, warming it up as best he knows how.

“Fuck!” Shiro says, explosively, when Keith finally relents and moves the warmed bottle away. “What kind of man or beast are you?”

Keith just grins and makes a show of popping the cork with his teeth and slicking up his fingers.

“It’s going to feel a little weird from here on out, big guy,” Keith warns. “We’re going to go slow and easy, ok? Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.” He pierces Shiro with a serious gaze, “This doesn’t have to hurt, so don’t let it. Tell me if you need anything.”

Shiro nods and Keith tempts him into a slow kiss as his hand starts to sneak down and test the give of Shiro’s hole. 

“Just relax for me, Shiro. That’s it. That’s perfect.” Keith props the bottle of oil against Shiro’s side so he can run his fingers through Shiro’s hair and cover his cheeks and neck with kisses. “Keep your legs open for me, love. Perfect, just like that. Now, I’m going to go in, just the little bit.”

The tip of Keith’s finger breeches Shiro and a shot of heat runs through their bodies like they’ve caught fire. There’s a flash of white all around them, but it’s gone before they can really register what happened. 

They pay it little attention. They’re too focused on each other. 

Shiro’s eyes bore into Keith’s as he accepts Keith praise, along with his finger. Before long, Shiro is taking one finger easily, and Keith is pouring more oil and easing in a second finger. 

There’s no more dramatics this time, like the flash of white, but the heat between them shimmers just beneath their skin and they soon find they need to toss a blanket or 2 aside. 

Keith holds Shiro and talks him through 2 fingers, and then 3. He takes his time and moves slowly but steadily to take Shiro apart. Keith employs Shiro’s prostate as necessary to help acclimate Shiro to the sensation to being filled, but Shiro takes to it readily, even eagerly, and soon he’s begging Keith for more and trying to arch his hips so that Keith will press against that spot where Shiro wants it most. 

“Please, Keith. I’m ready.”

Keith smiles down at Shiro. He knows Shiro’s ready, but he can’t help but enjoy teasing him a little more. He finds that little spot with two fingers and rubs a slow circle over it.

“Ple- _ease!_ ” Shiro arches straight off the bed for a moment before crashing down on the cot with an ominous rattle. 

Shiro absolutely whines when Keith pulls out a moment later. He reaches for Keith’s arm like he’s going to shove it back inside of him before his brain catches up with what it means for Keith to pull away. 

Quick as lightning, Shiro snatches up the oil and pours a generous amount into his hand. He sits up and Keith lifts up onto his knees. They meet close enough that Shiro’s lips graze against Keith’s when he speaks. “Let me get you,” he offers.

Keith laughs at Shiro’s enthusiasm – he’s not sure he’s ever been so flattered in bed before. He’s hardly able to get his breeches untied and down his hips before Shiro’s large, velvety, purple hand is tight around him, slicking him up. Shiro’s grip steals Keith’s breath, and he has to cling to Shiro’s shoulders to keep from tottering over onto the bed. 

“Ohh,” Keith moans and squeezes Shiro’s muscles. “That’s good. That’s good, Shiro…” 

Shiro employs a twisting motion that he didn’t learn from Keith and it makes Keith’s knees wobble. 

“Ok, Shiro… Ok.” Keith puts a hand to Shiro’s arm to stop him from jerking Keith off to completion. “You want me to last for you, don’t you?”

Shiro perks up at the thought and pulls Keith forward to sit in his lap. Their twin erections are trapped between their bodies, and it takes all of Keith’s willpower not to ride himself out on those purple abs. Fuck he’s horny! But he’s on a mission.

They share a deep kiss and then Keith crawls backwards out of Shiro’s lap.

“Turn around for me, love. On your knees. That’s it.”

They’re out in the open now, and Shiro’s bare as can be; but they’re warm. Shiro presents himself on his knees for Keith and he’s perfect. Actually perfect. Keith has never seen an ass that could rival this one. Pert, and purple, and perfect. 

Keith absolutely can’t help himself. He leans down and sinks his teeth into the meat of one perfect cheek. Shiro shouts in surprise and turns to look, but Keith offers no apology. Instead he gives Shiro a proud smirk, he takes himself in hand, and guides himself to Shiro’s ass. 

The penetration is slow and steady. Keith has to put a hand over the scruff of Shiro’s neck to keep him from slamming back and taking Keith too quickly.

“I said I’d take care of you, Shiro. Let me.”

Keith eases himself in. “That’s it. Relax, baby.” Once he’s buried to the hilt, he stops, one hand on Shiro’s hip, the other on his neck. “You feel that, Shiro? You feel me inside you?” 

Shiro groans, drawing out the sound. It’s a good noise, and Keith hitches his hips just to hear Shiro’s voice waver as he does.

“You like being full of my cock?” 

Keith pulls out and buries himself again, nice and slow. He watches Shiro’s hands grab uselessly at the blankets beneath them, his fists clenching and unclenching in time with his ass. 

Fire runs through their bodies, and the air around them grows warm as well. Not like they’re heating the space, but as if spring has finally settled over a long winter. 

Keith keeps a steady, slow pace to draw out their pleasure. Fire licks up his spine and encloses around his cock. He’s not really paying attention to their surroundings, all of his focus centred on Shiro, but still Keith can see the walls around them shift. They ripple a pale white before returning to black. 

The curse is lifting. 

Technically, Shiro lost his virginity at Keith’s first thrust, but Keith understands if the curse is looking for a little more. He has no problem giving it everything he’s got. 

He keeps his pace steady and begins to drive hard into Shiro, angling Shiro’s hips so that he feels the perfect fullness of Keith’s cock and its sweet kiss over that special spot deep inside. Shiro just gets hotter and tighter as they go, and Keith revels in it. 

“Good, just like that. So good for me,” Keith praises. He lifts his hold off Shiro’s neck and pets down Shiro’s spine. “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you, beautiful?” His hands fit over the curve of Shiro’s ass and he kneads it with his fingers. “Gonna keep you nice a full until you come for me.”

On a whim, Keith smacks Shiro’s ass. 

It makes a sharp noise, but not as sharp as the keening noise Shiro makes in response. 

The hit turns Shiro’s skin white where it lands. The white spot travels up Shiro’s spine and disappears over his shoulder. Keith blinks and Shiro’s skin is back to that purple so dark it looks black. He smacks again, a little harder this time – to another chorus of wanton sounds from Shiro – and two little spots of white roll up Shiro’s spine. 

White like pale skin in the firelight. White like the curse is leaving Shiro’s body and returning him to his human form. 

Keith sets his jaw, grabs a bruising grip over Shiro’s hips, and fucks into Shiro at full force. They shift on the bed, and Shiro makes a desperate noise, clawing at the sheets. Multiple little spots of white dance across Shiro’s body. In his periphery, Keith can see the walls shimmer white and then fade back to black. 

They’re so close. 

“That’s it, Shiro. Take it,” Keith says through clenched teeth as it gives it to Shiro. He’s not reckless, not yet, but he’s hard and ferocious and by all accounts Shiro is loving every second of it.

Shiro’s practically yowling, his fingers ripping into the blankets beneath him. His head is tilted to the side and Keith can see a small glimmer of drool dripping from his slack jaw. As Keith fucks him into the mattress, more and more white skimmers across Shiro’s skin, until it’s moving non-stop, building with pressure like a boiling pot. 

Keith lays a hand over the curve of Shiro’s back so he can feel the shift of the skin under his fingers. The smooth lizard skin gives way to something softer and warmer. Something lovelier. 

They’re so hot now. They’re sweating with exertion, and Keith thinks they’re probably stinking of sex. The tight heat of Shiro’s ass envelopes Keith and Keith can feel his end closing in on him. 

Now’s when he starts to get reckless. He charges forward to meet his orgasm, dropping his weight over Shiro’s back to lick at the patches of white. He reaches around and grabs Shiro’s cock tight in his hand. 

“ _Keith!!_ ” Shiro shouts when he feels the chokehold Keith wraps around his dick. So far, Shiro hasn’t been very talkative through this, but once Keith starts to jerk his wrist in time with his wild thrusts it unlocks Shiro’s voice. “Oh _fuck! YES!_ Give it to me, fuck me, fu-uck! _Keith_ …”

“Come for me, baby,” Keith urges. He’s so close, but he wants to wait for Shiro. 

Keith wants the feel every second of Shiro’s orgasm and ride him through it. 

“Ahhhh!” Shiro comes with a scream.

Many things happen at once. 

First and foremost, Shiro’s grip on Keith’s cock tightens and massages around him, milking Keith into an orgasm of his own. The pleasure goes on and on without bounds. Magic bursts from Shiro as the curse breaks, and both he and Keith ride that high along with their own. 

It’s incredible! For a brief moment, Keith feels like he’s one with every atom within the curse’s bounds. He feels flowers sprout in the fields and the trees start to leaf in the garden. The air turns warm, and the clouds part so moonlight cascades in on them through the massive cathedral windows that line the ballroom. The walls turn a brilliant white and the blankets around them turn a variety of bright colours. Shiro’s skin turns pink and warm, with downy-soft little hairs along his back. 

They moan together and ride it out, then collapse onto the bed. 

The groan Shiro gives when Keith pulls out is almost sulking, like he doesn’t want to be empty. It’s endearing, and it fills Keith with the need to hold him. He draws Shiro into his arms. He kisses Shiro soundly. It’s briefer than he’d like, but they’re still winded from their activities.

Besides, Keith wants to get a good look at Shiro up close.

It feels like someone’s lit the chandelier, there’s so much light coming in from the moon, but that’s all the better to see the beauty before him.

The first thing Keith notices is that Shiro’s hair is now completely white. It shines in the moonlight like a morning star. The cut across his nose is still there, darker than the rest of him. His skin is pale and delicate; Keith runs his thumb across Shiro’s cheek and its baby soft. His eyes are just as wide and expressive, though their colour is a softer shade of grey than before.

“Beautiful,” Keith murmurs, entranced. His thumb brushes over Shiro’s plump bottom lip, red and swollen from earlier. 

Shiro’s cheeks burn under Keith’s touch. He looks frozen for a moment, and then he tilts his head and buries his face into Keith’s neck, seeking refuge in Keith’s long tangles. 

“You are,” Keith laughs. “Just as gorgeous as a human than as a lizard.”

That makes Shiro snap back up to attention. “Human?”

One of Shiro’s hands is still purple up to his bicep, but the other is all-human and Keith draws it up to show him. “Human.” He kisses the back of Shiro’s fingers, while Shiro watches in shock.

“I’m human?”

“Yes. Look around.” Keith jerks his head at the walls and watches as Shiro inspects the walls in awe. “Don’t you feel warm?”

“Ye-” Shiro interrupts himself with a sudden sob and Keith is horrified to discover thick tears streaming down Shiro’s face. Shiro laughs into a hiccupping sob. 

He’s crying from joy.

That’s something Keith’s a little more comfortable with. He pulls Shiro back into his arms and holds him while Shiro cries and laughs it all out. 

They mould into each other. Keith holds Shiro’s head over his chest, and Shiro taps against Keith’s chest in time with Keith’s heartbeat. They snooze for a while, then wake up sometime before dawn. They watch the night sky through the windows and talk until sunrise, then Keith fits a hand around them both and slowly jerks them through another joint orgasm. 

They wake up again sometime in the afternoon and it’s significantly more awkward. Mainly because now comes _the_ conversation. The ‘what do we do now?’ conversation. (A portion of it is because there’s just something about getting dressed together the morning after that is inherently kind of awkward).

Keith knows what he wants. He knows what he came for, but he realizes about halfway through their awkward, opening small talk, that Shiro still has no idea.

“… understand if you don’t-” Shiro is saying, when Keith suddenly jumps at him, grabbing his biceps in both hands.

“Shiro.” Keith’s hands grip at Shiro’s arms and he momentarily distracts himself because _damn_ this man is well-built. He must have worked out every day to try and stay warm. Or maybe just for something to do to keep busy. 

No. Focus, Keith.

Shiro is still trying to finish his thought, stumbling over words Keith isn’t listening to.

“Last night,” Keith starts. That gets Shiro to shut up quick. “You asked me why I came here.”

Shiro nods.

“Well,” Keith flounders for a moment, “there’s this witch that comes to the village.” He feels Shiro tense under his hands and rushes to placate him, “No! No, not your witch. Her name’s Allura, and she’s good, she helps people.” Shiro relaxes and makes a gesture for Keith to continue. “She does this oracle shtick for the villagers. Usually I don’t go to that kind of stuff, but this year my mom made me go and, well… Allura sent me here.”

Shiro makes a face that Keith can’t read and ignites panic mode in Keith’s mind.

This is why he avoids people! He’s not good at talking.

“Not, like, here here. Well, kind of. I don’t know. She said…” Keith closes his eyes to try and remember exactly what she said. “Well, she said to journey deep into the dark woods. She said to go alone and that…” Keith licks his lips because suddenly his mouth is very dry. “That…. She said I’d find love everlasting. She said I’d meet someone I couldn’t live without.”

Light flashes in Shiro’s eyes for the briefest moment, before clouding over and Shiro’s face drops.

“Oh… I see…” He hangs his head and twiddles with his fingers.

Somehow, Keith doesn’t think Shiro does see.

“Shiro, I found you.”

Shiro’s brow furrows. “Yeah, but aren’t you going to keep looking?”

Now Keith is confused. “Why would I keep looking if I found you? Did… you want to hide… so I can find you again?” The dirty part of Keith’s mind supplies some very fun activities they could do with that kind of game. 

“So… you’re just going to go home?”

“Is that where you want to go?” Keith can feel the frustration crowding in behind his eyes.

“Me?” Shiro sounds absolutely lost. It breaks Keith’s last nerve. 

He stands and pushes Shiro back down onto the bed in one swift move. Keith jumps up and straddles Shiro’s chest and the cot gives another ominous groan that Keith ignores. 

“Shiro, you don’t seem to understand.” He takes Shiro’s face between his hands and squishes until Shiro’s making a duck face. “You are the one I was sent to meet. You are my everlasting. So, I’m going nowhere without you, and I’ll go anywhere you want to go.” He stares down at Shiro so intensely it’s almost a glare. 

Shiro looks caught, and a little frightened, so Keith loosens his hold on Shiro’s cheeks. 

“But – but, we’ve only known each other a day. We can’t be in love.”

Keith shrugs. “Maybe.” He doesn’t necessarily agree with that, but he’s not going to argue the point. “But we might someday. She sent me to the dark woods, and the dark woods led me to you. And I know you’re already important to me. I don’t want to leave you, Shiro. Unless…” Keith pulls back as the icy realization creeps down his spine, “… you don’t want me.” 

Maybe Shiro didn’t misunderstand. Maybe this is just his way of letting Keith down easy.

Shiro’s hands wrap around Keith’s hips and keeps him from moving any farther back. “I want you!” he says, emphatically. “It’s just, I – you… we don’t know each other. What if I’m not really what you’re looking for?”

Fears abated; Keith sinks down to lie across Shiro’s chest.

“What if I’m not what you’re looking for?” He presses a finger to Shiro’s lips to keep him from replying, “We’ll just have to take that risk together,” Keith arches a brow, “unless you’re chicken?”

Shiro licks at Keith’s fingers, like a child when someone tries to shush them. “Not chicken. I want you.” He splays his fingers at Keith’s sides and it’s warm and titillating. 

“I want you.” Keith settles over Shiro and their bodies fit together like a puzzle piece. 

They hold each other’s gaze for a long time, each searching the other’s eyes for any fears or doubts, and both relaxing as they find none left.

Shiro’s hands rub over Keith’s lower back and then down to cup his ass. He plays with Keith there, alternating squeezes over Keith’s ass and starting a slow rocking motion that builds in interest as Keith starts to lean into the movement. 

Keith leans into Shiro like he’s going in for a kiss, then feints to the side and latches on to Shiro’s neck instead. “You think you can handle round 2, love?”

The vibrations from Shiro’s responding groan buzz against Keith’s lips and that’s all he needs for an answer. He pulls Shiro into a kiss that’s hot and dirty. 

The clothes they just put on go flying within seconds, and they roll together on the small cot while their mouths attack each other. It’s a wild scramble. Mouths, teeth, hands, and tongue explore each other in a mad rush. They can’t seem to decide who should be on top, and they struggle against each other, vying for dominance. 

In the end, Shiro has Keith pinned to the cot with his heavy, clawed, purple hand to Keith’s chest while the other hand works more oil into himself. 

Shiro’s grin is wide and triumphant when he finally pulls his hand free and sinks down on Keith’s cock. 

Their fervour doesn’t die down with the penetration. If anything, it increases. Shiro lifts himself and slaps his ass back down over Keith so fast the cot shakes and creaks. Before they know it, the legs give out beneath them and Shiro is fucking Keith on a tilted bed. Still he doesn’t slow. 

Keith’s nails dig into the juicy meat of Shiro’s thighs when he comes, and Shiro rides him until he’s soft. He collapses onto the broken cot beside Keith and tries to pull Keith into his arms, the same way Keith did for him the night before, but Keith pulls out of reach. 

Keith curls up between Shiro’s legs and takes Shiro in his mouth. 

Shiro’s face is a revelation as Keith’s hot, wet mouth closes around his cock. 

“Christ!” he shouts to the ceiling, and fists at the blankets. Keith sets a fast pace, bobbing over Shiro’s fat dick and moaning around him. 

A few well-curved fingers in Shiro’s ass and he’s pumping a load deep into Keith’s throat. 

It’s over as fast as it started, and Keith looks pleased as a plum when he crawls back up into Shiro’s arm. “We broke the bed,” he says, a proud grin stretched wide across his face

Something about that strikes them both as particularly hilarious and they laugh together until they’re giddy.

They spend the rest of the day exploring the castle again, only this time in technicolour. They hold hands as they walk and exchange soft kisses as they get to know each other. They explore the next day, and the one after that they check out the new gardens and test to make sure those beasts are gone with the curse. 

There are several _conversations_ over the next few days before they settle on a course of action. It takes a few more days for Keith to fix up the old wagon they find in a gardener’s shed. They load it up with all of Shiro’s favourite books, and a practical amount of riches – enough to keep them well-fed for the conceivable future. Then they head for Keith’s village.

The journey back through the dark woods is winding. It takes months. They are waylaid time and again, and they meet many new friends and have a handful of adventures. 

When they finally reach Keith’s home, Kosmo meets them at the fence, and Krolia greets them with hugs and happiness. They make a comfortable life together. Using Keith’s house (now _their_ house) as a base, they journey back and forth from the dark woods, mapping the area and helping those lost in its depths. 

They are unspeakably happy and, just as Allura predicted, they live on love everlasting.

**Author's Note:**

> These monster fucker fics are supposed to be _SHORT!!!_
> 
> This prompt was giving me nothing. And then I asked the beautiful and talented [OhMyFrigg](https://twitter.com/ohmyfrigg) what kind of monster Shiro should be. She said "fartmonster" and 15 000 words later this fic is FINALLY done!!! 
> 
> Keith's lack of smell is called "anosmia" and it's an actual thing - my nephew has it (and he was low-key consulted on whether things like pepper or smoke would make him want to sneeze... the answer was an illuminating "not really, but kinda" -.-)
> 
> Well! It's looking less and less like this is going to be done by the new year, but I'm still pretty determined to finish this. I have IDEAS. Also, the more I work on this, the more I get to procrastinate on my Shunkeith fic I've been working on for forever now. Yay!
> 
> I can be found lurking twitter at all hours of the day and night. And i can be briefly spotted on tumblr every week or so just to drop a fic and vamoose. And every kudos and comment adds +10 to my love for the Sheith fandom! And that's what keeps me feeding y'all  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)
> 
> For anyone who wants to see my idea-process in action... I saved these notes from my brainstorming session for the fic and they make me chuckle:
> 
> Tarot reading prompt – Keith: *straight face* the cards say you need to strip now, or else bad luck will follow you all week.  
> Shiro: *actually concerned* oh no! *strips*  
> Keith: …. The cards also say you need to ride my dick till sundown.  
> Shiro: well, if that’s what the cards say… 
> 
> Rii says fartmonster
> 
> Keith has anosmia – tricks Shiro into sleeping with him to ‘cure’ his curse to be a fartmonster. – 
> 
> Or just Shiro’s hiding in a cave because he’s cursed to be a fart monster and the only cure is for someone to take his virginity. Then keith rolls up like, wtf, why are you being so creepy? And he can’t smell him so he’s like “bend the fuck over!”
> 
> Beauty and the Beast AU but for smell
> 
> (I still might use that tarot reading thing.... because I do love me some gullible Shiro)


End file.
